


When Our Stars Align

by TeacupPup



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bullying, Depression, Eremin - Freeform, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Highschool AU, Humor, M/M, POV Alternating, Romance, Slash, Triggers, Violence, Yaoi, armin is a total geek, between eren and armin, eruri - Freeform, for all your eremin needs, really bad jokes made by eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeacupPup/pseuds/TeacupPup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin didn't mean to fall in love. The last thing he wanted was to give up his time taking refuge in the library in exchange for tutoring some delinquent. But Eren was different- all the way from his gorgeous ocean green eyes down to the relentless way he won't let Armin push him out.</p>
<p>And the last thing Eren wants to do is get kicked out of his new school before he discovers its biggest secret: what caused the rift between St. Maria's and St. Rose's, and why does everyone blame Armin for it? He's determined to get his adorable tutor to trust him before the clock chimes End Game. Before he has to switch schools- again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Troop of Monkeys

Armin

He had forgotten the meaning of love. Sure, he could just thumb a search on his dictionary app (or flip through the worn dictionary to his right), but an intense feeling of deep affection just didn't seem... Good enough. Firm enough to explain love and all of it's sorrows and pitfalls and queasy sends-you-sprinting-to-the-bathroom feelings. None of it could explain why love was worth it.

Because it's not. Armin looked up from his book in silence, staring out at the students milling around the trees dotting the shaded courtyard. I'm happier in this library, it's quiet and there's no one interrupting my reading.

Come to think of it, no one ever interrupted anything that Armin did. People his age would simply maneuver around him as if he was detached from the system of social webbing interlocking the other kids. Yes, go ahead and say it. Armin had heard it too many times before. He was the cliched invisible kid. The one nobody talks to, the one nobody talks about.

Maybe it wouldn't be like that if I didn't always creep up here and read. Then he reminded himself that he didn't care. Armin slid his bony hands down the smooth leather arms of the chair, shying his gaze away from the miniaturized figures of students eating lunch outside.

"Armin?" A voice called out. There were footsteps and an elderly man entered the library.

"Grandpa!" Armin beamed from across the room, oddly thankful for the distraction.

"The lunch staff told me that you skipped again."

Armin's heart froze. He hugged his book closer to his chest. "I wasn't hungry."

His grandpa regarded him with scrutiny, eyes traveling across Armin’s pale hollow cheeks, the rhythm of conspicuous veins trailing down his neck, and white knuckles that had earned him the mocking nickname ‘Vampire Prince’. "Armin," he said with a sigh, "I gave you a key to the staff library because you've read circles around the other one. It's not a place to hide."

"I'm not hiding." His voice sounded flat even to his own ears. He turned towards the window. Grandpa definitely wouldn't buy it, he thought with an inner wince.

Sure enough, the floorboards creaked as Headmaster Arlert took a few disbelieving steps forward. "Then what are you doing?"

Such useless rhetoric. Guilt sunk into Armin's gut. "I'm just reading." Don't worry about me, please.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

What? Armin's eyebrows slanted in question and he perked up in his seat. Maybe I'm being asked to help catalog books again? The librarians were kind, the Headmaster only kept ones around who were sweet on his grandson. Which happened to be most of them, since meeting a kid who likes to read actual books is every librarian's dream.

"A new student is enrolling next week and we don't have anyone in St. Maria’s available to tutor him."

"Oh." Shit. How could his grandpa expect that of him after what happened last time? Why did he even trust Armin to do it? Couldn't one of the seniors take the extra student?

His grandpa seemed to read every excuse right off his face. "This one's a handful, I don't think even Levi has the capability to manage both him and another student. And it wouldn't be for long, at most two weeks. A few more late applicants are enrolling next month."

"He's a 'handful'?" Geesh, the majority of the students in St. Rose’s were. If this guy happened to be any worse...

"You know I'm not supposed to disclose this information, but..." He leaned out the door frame, casting a hesitant glance down both sides of the hallway. His prairie blue eyes twinkled when he look back at Armin. "He was expelled from one school for transporting the statue of their mascot onto the roof. No one figured out how he did it. The school before that, he 'accidentally' freed an exhibit full of monkeys on a field-trip to the school. He also has a record for getting into fights, and an even higher record for causing them."

"He freed a troop of monkeys?"

"Yes, Mr. Jaegar is quite the unordinary delinquent."

"Mr. Jaegar?"

"Yes, Mr. Eren Jaegar." Headmaster Arlert slid a file across the coffee table. "That's his schedule and everything else you'll need to know about him." He looked at Armin with lingering traces of enthusiasm, as though they were comparing notes on a detective case. His grandpa loved mysteries, but he loved world history even more. "Also," he said, "we're a bit short on rooms."

Armin blinked. Once. Twice. "Please," he whispered.

"I'm just joking," he amended, but the dismay in his eyes read otherwise. "Rising scholars and rambunctious hooligans probably aren't the best pairing anyhow."

As soon as he was gone, Armin pressed his book up infront of his face and leafed to where he left off. Maybe if he blocked the file from his vision, he'd forget about it. Maybe, just maybe...

But half a chapter later, curiosity won over and he scurried over to the coffee table. Armin flipped the file open, and that was when he saw the picture.

He gasped.

Oh. Oh damn.

Gorgeous teal eyes stared up at him, glinting with either fierce determination not to blink or hatred for the photographer. Armin couldn't tell which. The teen's lips were full and his skin was a creamy sun-kissed bronze. The color of an inviting cup of coffee. And his dark chocolatey hair framed his face perfectly.

There was no denying it. His new student was drop-dead gorgeous.

Armin had a distant thought that he should close his mouth before he started drooling all over the photo.

The photo of his new pupil.

Damn. Jaegar's got looks.


	2. A Pair of Bacon Cheeseburgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren buys a cheeseburger.

**Eren**

In eight words, the therapist had confirmed everything. Her gaze was cold, as if just the sight of Eren could vex her features into an impatient scowl. The rhythmic clicks from her pointy nails tapping on Eren’s file folder seemed like a well-rehearsed gesture to put him on edge. Eren slumped into the cushy sofa opposing her and nonchalantly met her gaze. As if her sour mood was nothing.

Damn, that was one big file. Documents threatened to slide out with every calculated movement Mrs. Brzenka made, and the file’s bulge was so large that it demanded half a drawer. Eren had seen her slide that monstrosity into her file cabinet, stuffing it alongside dozens of smaller folders with the names of more cooperative patients. The fact should’ve made him feel guilty, but not even a speck of remorse had flitted across his face. Good, he had thought. At least I’m good at something. Good at being a problem child, perhaps, but I’m impacting people. I’m giving this woman nightmares and that’s a good enough life purpose for me.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, doubt always flickered in his mind. How stupid was it that he was spending all his time stirring up trouble like a little old hag bent over a stew, when he could be doing something else with his life? But each time he thought it, he’d dismiss the words with an irritated wave of his hand. It always sounded like a sentence directly copied from his How to Improve Your Behavior: A Children's Guide handbook that he loathed with all his soul. About a month ago, he has scribbled the title out with sharpie and written instead How to Brainwash your Children: A Zombie’s Guide.

Eren was proud to be a problem child.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself to believe.

But that little rebellious hag inside of him would be even prouder of what Mrs. Brzenka was about to say next.

“I’m switching you to a new school. Again.”

A cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk curled along his lips, and the satisfaction sank into him. Well, he had definitely devoured something alright. Mrs. Brzenka's patience. Eren then had the audacity to laugh- can you believe him- like they were sharing a private joke or something. But judging by Mrs. Brzenka’s piercing stare, it was a joke that she did not find amusing.

"So what did I do this time?" His voice was dripping with feigned innocence.

Mrs. Brzenka's left eyebrow arched, the other remaining flat. Eren shifted. Even after six whole years, he never understood just how she did that. Once, he had possessed the gall to ask. But that was back in his days of naive childhood, before he knew that adults didn't like being questioned about their history with plastic surgery.

Would this be a good time to ask again, just to piss her off?

"You skipped class on an average so high that the administration had to create an extra detention hour just to punish you, because the (allotted?) existing time had not been enough to satisfy the law. And you spent one of your vacations from class duct taping every locker and classroom door of the school shut. The janitors spent three hours unpeeling it all, and a student even lost control of his bladder because he couldn't exit his classroom to use the laboratory.

"You also participated in four fights, initiated two of those four, and egged on two girls saying, 'Go at her like a honeybadger'. You never specified which girl you were directing that statement towards."

"Both of them."

Mrs. Brzenka glanced up from his reports. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I didn't really care who won. They both were equally bad anyway." And they both deserved a good chunk of their hair ripped out...

"What classifies a person as bad?"

Eren avoided her gaze. That stupid condescending frown of hers always made so it hard to think clearly. "When you disrespect others."

She snorted; a brief lapse of professional conduct that did not go unnoticed by Eren. The only other time she had done so had been that split-second giggle when he missed the couch sitting down a few months back. Eren swore up and down that she moved it while he was doing his business, but no one ever believes the kid.

Eren sat up. What did she find so funny this-

Oh.

He jumped up as if someone had poked him with a lightning rod. A flash of anger seared through him, igniting his teal eyes and slamming against his heart. "That's not the same! I'm not the same! I don't hurt other people! Those girls were self-centered imbeciles! What I do has nothing to do with those-"

"Eren!" She rose, documents sliding in her wake. "That is enough! If you can't control your temper, then we'll have to resort to Eskalith! I've tried everything with you! Compassion, honesty, venting, exercises, behavioral guides, tutors! But it is all wasted on you! So don't give me that look! I am not the bad guy! You just refuse to cooperate so I am forced to resort to screaming at you!"

"Eskalith?" Eren repeated. His voice sounded faint, miles away.

"Eskalith! Or Valproic Acid! I hate to say it, but it's come down to that. You are uncontrollable!"

"But I'm not the bad guy either!" Oh gosh, were those tears in his eyes? Damn it. Eren wiped at them in a lost attempt to conceal the evidence, but she would know. She would see. She sees everything.

His mind raced through all the good things he had done for people. Good, great, semi-benevolent things.

"There- there was a boy! He was- and I told them to stop- and and that was- that was why and then they came after me again! But I stood up for him and and- that makes me a good guy! Mikasa was there! She saw!"

"While Mikasa's honesty streak outlives yours by a couple thousand years, I have no doubt that she would take your side no matter what the incident. You cannot use your sister as valid verification for any of your actions.”

Her tone and stony gaze implied that Eren himself was said incident.

“That’s not true! She rats on me alot!”

A timer on her desk squawked, and the frown on Mrs. Grim-Reaper’s face only deepened. "Thanks to your antics, we're behind schedule. So your new school-"

"Is Mikasa switching too?" Eren straightened, his hands clasping in hope.

Mrs. Brzenka brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and rolled her chair around to face her computer. The sound of clicking keys and Eren’s heavy breathing were the only sounds penetrating the grim silence.

He heard her breathe in. His own breath caught in his throat. "Yes."

Eren internally sighed.

"But not to your school."

"Wha- WHAT?" Eren flew off the couch. The pieces of the puzzle rotated in and out of focus. He couldn't put them together. Nothing made any sense.

How... How could she not... But we're always... We're a team! My only friend... What am I going to do?

The room spun and the floor tilted up and down in nauseating waves.

"The school you're being sent to is St. Rose's Therapeutic Boarding School for Troubled Children."

A therapeutic school. For troubled children. Hah.

Mrs. Brzenka, indifferent to Eren's buckling knees and paling cheeks, continued in callous monotone."The school your sister is going to is St. Maria's Boarding School for the Gifted and the Advanced. Both schools lie on the same academic campus and are housed in the same buildings. You should be pleased to know that."

The unspoken message was clear. You big fat baby! Can't even function without that poor sister of yours. Tch.

"Students from St. Maria's receive generous scholarships from the school board for tutoring students from St. Rose's. You'll be paired to a student attending there. They only accept children of high moral and standard, so with any luck, their behavior will rub off on you."

Tutors? Eren quirked a brow. She couldn't mean it... "I'm going to be surrounded by preps and smart kids that can run circles around me." It was supposed to be a question, but it came out empty and hollow, since he already knew the answer."Can Mikasa be my tutor?"

The last breaths of hope encircling his heart were choked with a solemn shake of her head. "Boys are matched to boys, and girls likewise."

"Of course!" Eren spat. He ached to make another sarcastic comment but Mrs. Brzenka stood, cutting off his thoughts.

"You never know, Eren. You may find someone there who will change your outlook on life. Maybe you'll get lucky. It would mean a lot less work for me." She opened the door, not even bothering to motion Eren to follow her.

 

In the lobby, a familiar ebony haired girl with stern gray eyes sat waiting. At the sound of footsteps, she rose to her feet and met Eren's gaze.

They silently exchanged a thousand words. Her eyes widened for a split second and then her expression snapped back to the same unreadable stare. But, Eren noticed, (over the years he had slowly gained the ability to pick apart her limited expressions), that her frown deepened.

"Miss Ackerman." Mrs. Brzenka extended her hand, as oblivious to Mikasa's loathing of her as she was to Eren's good deeds.

"Mrs. Brzenka." Mikasa smiled her watered-down version of a smile.

"Please, call me Rico," Mrs. Brzenka said with a smile for probably the fiftieth time. Oh, the sight! How her happiness scarred him so!

Eren snorted, for the fiftieth time, enticing the usual glare from his hostile therapist. "Please, call me Delores Umbridge. My occupation is making children suffer. How do you do?"

"Sit down!" Mrs. Brzenka whirled around, her Rita Skeeter-esque coat swishing as she walked past. Mikasa shot one last sympathetic glance at Eren before following with the faint traces of a grimace.

 

Eren busied himself with the germ-farm-of-a-lego-box set out for the kiddos, gleefully ignoring the shouting. The first battle cry had been Mikasa's. His sister was the best! And in only five minutes, the argument had escalated to the volume of girls dueling it out over the last designer purse left on Black Friday.

Even the secretary, who was usually as smiley as a barbie doll casted alarmed glances towards the room. Damn! If only he could hear what they were saying! He acted it out with the lego people, making them jump and wave their hands as they swapped turns screeching. A lady a few seats down widened her eyes at him and quirked her brow. Eren stuck his tongue out: the essence of immaturity. What? Teenagers can play with legos too!

And only seconds later, the door to the devil's lair flew open and Mikasa came storming out.

"We're leaving!" This was directed at Eren, who needed no further prodding. He jumped up, waving at Miss Barbie and Mrs. Anti-Legos as he followed Mikasa out the door.

Mrs. Brzenka stared after them, her face frozen in a scowl. She was hands-on-hips, the epitome of a pissed off teacher. Except that she wasn't his teacher; she was his overpaid therapist. And she had just delivered the worst death sentence in her arsenal.

888

Mikasa thrusted her keys into the ignition. Their mom's 2002 Prius groaned, the car taking a moment of leisure to warm up. She yanked on the wheel, speeding out of the parking-lot, her eyebrows knit and forehead wrinkling.

"That bad, huh?" Eren said over the sputs and spats of the engine.

Mikasa shook her head. "Don't even ask. We're going to Shakin Bacon."

Shit. They never went to Shakin Bacon unless Mikasa deemed a situation worthy of shoving greasy fastfood hamburgers into their faces. And the last time she had done so had been after Eren got kicked off the track team last year. He had accidentally knocked a few kids over with a vaulting pole. They all broke their legs, and coincidentally happened to be the kids who had beat the crud out of him in a race five minutes prior. Of course, no one believed that it was an accident. Except Mikasa.

Their father was a doctor and preached against anything sold by suspicious, cheesily named mascots. That included Mr. Buck Bacon, a cartoon pig with a nifty red hat who was the face of the Shakin Bacon chain.

Eren looked Mikasa over, trying to notice any signs of annoyance in the way she sat as stiff as a board or the way her hands clenched the wheel.

"You don't look very happy," he noted. They pulled into the Shakin Bacon parking lot, Mikasa darkly laughing.

"I'm trying to figure out how to protect my baby brother. What if someone tries to beat you up? What if you fall asleep during class? Eren, you're going to be on your own!"

"You don't have to protect me!"

Mikasa glared.

Eren shrugged and they walked into the restaurant. "I know, I know! It sucks," he admitted after a moment. "Wait! I got it!"

Mikasa arched an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with hope.

Eren clapped his hands together and rubbed them with a flourish. "All you have to do is sabotage Mr. Woerman's precious piano and then you'll be a bad kid for sure! Then we'll be in the same school. St. Petunia's or whatever."

Mikasa sighed and turned towards the cashier. "Two large Bacon Burger Combos please."

888

They paid in cash to cover their tracks and drove home betting on what the school colors were going to be.

"I hope at least one of the colors is red," Mikasa said.

Eren nodded. "But green would be better. Not a lot of schools have green. Remember that one school that had neon orange?"

Mikasa's nose wrinkled. "I felt like a construction sign in those sweatshirts."

"Yeah, it made it really hard to pretend you couldn't see anyone in the dark."

"Eren, you told me that it was an accident!"

"It was an accident! At first! I thought it would be funny, but I really didn't mean to do it. Besides, I'm horrible at gulf. My aim sucks! It was just my luck that the one time the teacher was watching, it actually hit him. The jerk-head deserved it anyhow. Didn’t you hear what he said about that one group of kids? The one that sat in the corner of the cafeteria? If I didn’t get back at him in the name of justice, I’m sure that karma would have!"

Mikasa just shook her head, a small smile darting across her lips. "Eren..."

Eren slumped down, fishing another fry out from the Shakin Bacon bag. "Wonder how long it will take to get kicked out of this school."

Mikasa fell silent. But she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and the look in her eyes was clear.

_Maybe you won't, but even if you do, I'll be with you. We'll stick together._

_But mom will be very, very pissed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! I apologize that Armin and Eren haven't met yet, but I promise that it will happen soon! :)


	3. The Things One Can Buy From Levi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggers in this chapter  
> You may cry.

**Armin**

If there was one thing Armin Arlert would never admit, it was that...

On second thought, there were a lot of things.

1) He swallowed a penny the night before his seventh birthday and had to go to the ER. Worst. Birthday. Ever.

2) He'd never admit that the upperclassmen officer, Levi Ackerman, terrified him. Because not only Levi would take that much more pleasure in insulting him, but it would give the guy some sort of upper hand in their silent battle to be teacher's pet. It probably didn't help that Levi would periodically fuck the teacher though.

3) He kept a diary and hid it every night beneath a stack of literary magazines in his room. Each entry was dedicated to a deceased relative or pet, and he'd write about his day as though it was a letter to them.

5) If someone asked this, he might mumble a response or excuse to go to the bathroom with a bright red blush across his face. The matters of his virginity, singleness, and addiction to gay porn (which he bought from Levi in moments of weakness; it did not help their rivalry) were not the kinds of things that would earn him social points to say the least.

4) He was constantly weighed down, and always felt utterly, devastatingly lonely. The sort of loneliness where one isolates themselves from people, avoids parties, speaks to no one, because you know that as soon as you try, you'll remember that you have no one. There are no people to talk to, no friends to dance with, no one to make crappy jokes with.

It's better to avoid people and pretend that the problem is them, than to give making friends your all and discover that the issue is really-

Me.

 

He had to remind himself of this several times while thinking about his new pupil. If he doesn't like me, then it's probably better, because then it will be harder to want to be friends.

He had to force himself to replace "crush" with "friends" each time his mind cycled through the ritual.

The lunch bell rang just as Armin was finishing the shading on the eyes. Students rose up all around him, the studious St. Maria's variety scooping up piles of books and papers, discussing morning classes as they exited to right. Although lunches were mixed, Armin could draw a line in the air between the two halves of the larger school with his pencil. St. Rose's students flooded the left, a wave of dark evergreen argyle sweaters and mischievous smirks. A few of them glanced his way. Armin stiffened and bowed his head closer to the table.

Pass me pass me pass me pass me pass me pass me oh shiiiit pass me no stop walking this way just turn around just look over there-

Someone smacked their hands down onto his table, their fingers over the top of his drawing. “Hey Arlert.”

His stomach twisted, and the tabletop began to spin. He gripped the sides of his chair, nails digging into the plastic. The nausea only built inside of him, threatening to send him careening off the chair, or reeling to the bathroom, or maybe even both. The uncontrollable urge to vomit paraded up inside of his head, dueling it out with whatever rationality he had left.

Fight! The last of his courage boomed.

Flight! The little renegade soldier-of-puke countered.

Stay still and maybe they’ll leave! The rest of him shrieked.

Good thing he had skipped lunch today too. Washing chunks of mystery meat off of your uniform is never fun.

The first guy, Anthony, snatched up the drawing before Armin could make a decision. “Who’s this?” He sneered at it, letting the top crumble under his grip. “Your boyfriend?”

He felt like a rabbit backed into a corner by a trio of dogs. A trio of foaming, malicious dobermans. Armin opened his mouth but he felt too terrified to muster a squeak.

“You still don’t have any friends? Not even after that freckled loser left you behind and went on a cruise down suicide lane?” Anthony’s taunting smile warped into a painfully artificial pout. “Tch. That’s too bad, really. You would’ve thought the mystery of it would’ve attracted some kids to you. Some girls even seek out sick gay monsters like you, so I've heard. No matter.”

“We’ll be your friends,” the guy to his left, nicknamed Hammer by Anthony’s cronies (Armin had no idea why) said. He too was an upperclassmen, the fact given away by the hints of man-hair along his jaw.

“Yeah, Arlert. We’ll all be good friends. We can all be vampires fags together. We’ll all stay out of the sun and get as pale as you and skip meals so we have enough room in our bellies for all the blood you drink at night.”

“Come on, Arlert, we’re going to go make pink friendship bracelets.”

This shouldn’t be real, Armin thought. Real people aren’t that crude. Real people don’t get bullied like this.

They shackled Armin by interlocking his arms with there’s and dragged him out of the cafeteria. Armin casted a forlorn glance at his backpack and textbooks still sitting next to his chair. Then someone caught his eye. It had to be by accident, because most of the time that particular crowd of kids avoided him. He stared back at those scowling brown eyes until he turned away. Then his gaze drifted across his companions. The blond girl- Annie- met his gaze with nonchalant ease. Even after all they had been through last year, he still could hardly tell what she was thinking. Beside her was Ymir, that tall girl who intimidated the crap out of him. As always, she had that smirk on her face, but he liked to think that it look a little grimmer when he caught her eye. Then there was Reiner. Armin never knew what to think about him. Sometimes the guy just seemed plain stupid, like the one time he actually trusted Ymir to deliver a love letter to some girl he liked. But other times he seemed wise beyond his years.

The one who had looked away was Jean. Of course he wouldn’t look at me. I don’t deserve it anyway. It only makes sense that he’d stay away from me after what happened to… Armin choked back a sob. Where had things gone so wrong?

The three guys had dragged him through an empty hall and out a set of side doors that led outside the courtyard. They pushed him up against the wall, one securing his arms against the bricks and the second holding onto this legs. Anthony's mouth curled in a sick grin. “You ready, Arlert?”

Don’t beg don’t beg don’t beg keep your mouth shut maybe they’ll get really really bored and leave me alone!

Armin closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and recoiled against the bricks when a cloth was poked into his mouth. It tasted like the lovechild of farmyard dirt and a bacteria colony. Lovely. It's worse than their breath.

It felt like not even a second later when the all too familiar cycle of thoughts started rolling in. This is all my fault, Armin internally moaned. If I wasn't such a weakling they wouldn't be picking on me. if I bothered to fight back... If I was brave and stood up for myself...

It's my fault. I can't stop this.

His knees quaked. Tears stung his eyes and he felt them trickling down his cheeks. All he wanted was the ground to open up and swallow him whole. If he disappeared, no one could follow him.

But that's not the answer, a familiar voice chided in his head. Instantly he was reminded of Marco.

“Open wide, Arlert. Take it like a man.”

Armin opened his mouth a little. He did it for Marco. Marco would want him to get through this, to not let the bullying scar him. Marco would want him to be strong. Marco. His name left behind a strand of happy memories. Better days where Armin used to laugh and joke and bicker instead of meandering through the world like a ambitiousness zombie. Those memories were only hopes now.

He felt a finger prod against his teeth, pushing the cloth farther back into his mouth. It never got far enough in for him to bite it. Not that he would’ve. He had the bruises to prove that it hadn’t worked in the past. Armin winced once the hand drew back. It was only seconds before a dull pain fanned across his stomach. There were chuckles as he gasped and started into hack into the cloth, but it still muffled any noise he made. Armin vaguely hoped that maybe, this time the staff would hear him shriek and groan in pain. This time... Another slap came swiftly after, and then another… Then another… and one by one, the memories of his happier self slunk away. So did his will to fight back. He stopped squirming against their grip and only fidgeted on impulse to the pain. If he had to describe that pain, he would say that it felt like he had belly-flopped off the high-dive onto a slab of concrete. Damn, it was agonizing.

All the while, Armin had a single hope flickering in his mind. A hope that maybe, just maybe, his scowling soon-to-be pupil would offer to be his friend. Not the let’s-red-belly-Armin-behind-the-school kind, but a real friend. A genuine let’s-talk-about-random-crap-and-binge-on-candy-at-midnight kind of friend.

But something in his gut (perhaps it was the slab of concrete sensation) told him otherwise. So he kept his eyes closed and took it like a man.


End file.
